


That Glorious Maternal Glow

by Ambitious_Rubbish



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-10-28
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:01:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26654110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ambitious_Rubbish/pseuds/Ambitious_Rubbish
Summary: There’s lots of reasons why Aveline and Hawke would never work as a couple. Plenty more reasons why such a union should never,evercome to pass.But first and foremost out of all of them? The one thing that, above all, should be incontrovertible proof that the two of them together would be a disaster of utterly catastrophic proportions? This.Andraste’s flaming knickers, it would have to be this.
Relationships: Female Hawke & Aveline Vallen
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written (but not finished - until now, hopefully) for: https://dragonage-kink.dreamwidth.org/83019.html?thread=327369291#cmt327369291

“I… I don’ care wha’ Isabela says… I don’ think you have man-hands...”

“That… that may just be th’ nicest thing anyone’s ever… -hic!- ever said to me, Marian.”

“Well… well, I mean it! I mean, I mean, ok… maybe they’re… they’re a little bit mannish… you know… because of all th’ … sword-calluses… ‘n’ stuff… but… they’re still… pr- … still -urp!- ‘scuse me. Still pretty. And ‘sides… it’s not like they’re… um… like… _big_ like… like a man’s hands. Y’know, I bet I could fit your entire fist in m’mouf.”

“Five silver. Five silver if you do it right now.”

“Ok. Ok, I will!” True to her word, and buoyed by drunken courage and strength, Marian seized Aveline’s wrist, raised it to her face and promptly punched herself in the mouth with it. “OW.”

“That… that looked like it hurt.”

“Prob- probib- I shoulda taken off your gauntlet first. Hold on...” She fumbled with the plate-armored glove, tugging at buckles, prying at snaps, until eventually it fell to the table with a heavy *Clunk!* The impact upset a couple of empty beer mugs and sent them crashing to the floor where they shattered spectacularly on impact.

“Oi!” bellowed Corff, the bartender. “Ye’re payin’ for those!”

“Put it on Varric’s tab!” Aveline yelled back.

“Ok… ok… le’s do this,” Marian muttered drunkenly. She took a deep breath and eyeballed Aveline’s hand. It didn’t _look_ all that huge, but suddenly she was having second thoughts about taking it inside… her mouth. Still, she hadn’t gotten to where she was in life by shying away from a challenge… no matter how ridiculous or ill-conceived. She gently folded the other woman’s fingers into a tight fist, once again raised the hand to her lips, and-

“MWAHA! VVVVVVTTTTHHHHRY!” (“HA-HAH! VICTORY!”)

Aveline frowned. “I have Marian-slobber all over my hand.”

“I would like my five silvers now, please,” Marian said with remarkable lucidity after she’d finished spitting out the last of Aveline’s fingers.

“Take them, you cheat.”

“ ‘Cheat?!’ It… i’was a fair bet. And I won it… fair and… and fair...” She shook her head, ignoring the sudden bout of dizziness that caused, and then thumped her fist into the table. “Wasn’t that hard, an’ways...” she said, once again starting to slur her speech. “I mean… lookit...” She tugged playfully on Aveline’s pinkie finger. “Sooooooo tiny. N’ cute n’ stuff…” She slipped the end of that “cute” little finger back into her mouth and began to nibble on it.

“Hawke. What are you-”

Marian made an exaggerated shushing gesture as she leaned in close over the table. “Shhhhhhhhhh, I’m busy.” She nipped one last time at Aveline’s little finger before moving on to her ring finger. This one got the same treatment, as did her middle finger, and then her index finger.

Aveline wasn’t the giggly-type of drunk. She tended to be the “Get on my bad side and I’ll punch you,” type of drunk. But this was a rather unique set of circumstances. She snickered into her other hand as Marian’s teeth played up and down the length of her thumb. “That… th’ _tickles._ ”

Hawke looked up from the ginger-haired warrior’s hand and flashed her an impish smile. “Yeah. I kinda noticed that.”


	2. Chapter 2

As mornings went, this one wasn’t so bad. The herd of cattle stampeding through her head was only about half as large as it normally was after a night of hard drinking, and better still, there was someone warm and soft lying next to her. That in and of itself was always a bonus.

She turned, reaching under the sinfully decadent Orlesian silk sheets to wrap an arm around the waist of whoever it was sharing her bed. The citizens of Kirkwall may not have figured Marian Hawke for a morning cuddler, but what they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. Her hand drifted across a slim waist, then a firm, well-muscled abdomen. Smiling to herself, she took her explorations even higher. Supple breasts. Proud, if modest. Certainly nothing to complain about there. She could definitely make do.

An amused chuckle made her hand stop short. “Just woken up, and already you’re fondling me. Why am I not surprised?”

Marian’s eyes snapped open, and she felt her cheeks practically catch fire. She struggled to find her voice. “Av- Aveline.”

The other woman rolled over to face her, smirking wryly, and Marian noticed, much to her chagrin, that the covers seemingly did nothing to hide Aveline’s strong, yet distressingly feminine curves. “Expecting someone else?” the redhead said with a teasing lilt to her voice.

“No! Not at all. I… uh… well… maybe?” She stuttered, winced, and bit down on the inside of her cheek to stop her mouth running while she gathered her thoughts. “I didn’t mean it like that. Um, please don’t hit me.”

Aveline eyed her with that predatory look of suspicion that she normally saved for Lowtown thugs, Dockside smugglers, or… Varric. “Perhaps you should explain.”

Marian frowned. Direct. Aveline appreciated the direct approach. She took a deep breath – one that puffed out her cheeks – and let it out slowly. “Long story short? I never expected to ever get you into my bed, but now that I have, I’m pleasantly surprised. Does that satisfy your curiosity?”

“Somewhat. But you’re not quite telling me the whole story.”

“Like a mabari with a bone… like _my_ mabari with a bone.” Marian chuckled weakly and leaned over to kiss Aveline on the forehead. “In for a copper, in for a sovereign, I guess,” she muttered to herself. “Fine. So this whole frightfully mad scheme to get you into my bed? Not exactly a one-off. Not spur of the moment.” She took another deep breath to try and steady her nerves. “It’s… something I’ve been plotting for a while. And while I’m happy it worked, well… uh, not to put too fine a point on things, I suppose, but while you… you’ll almost certainly head home after this and write it off as just one night of, admittedly, _amazing_ drunken debauchery – the kind that you hope Varric never gets wind of, even though he always does-”

His sources are disturbingly well informed,” the guard-captain grumbled.

“Yes, well… my point is, for you, it was just… you know… a one-night thing...”

Aveline felt something in her tense. She sat up a little straighter, and her eyes widened as she caught on to Hawke’s meaning. “But… but not you.”

The smile that came to Marian’s face just then was the same, easy smile that everyone who knew her became intimately familiar with. It never ceased to amaze her friends and family how the young woman could grin and smirk her way through life’s travails with such seeming ease, but she had. This time, though, something seemed… different. There was an almost brittle quality to that grin, and the normally carefree shrug that went with it, didn’t seem anywhere near as blasé as it should have been. “Well… not quite.”

Very little tended to faze Aveline, and she prided herself on that fact. But this time, there was a slight quaver to her voice – one she was too shocked to really bother trying to hide. “Marian,” she rasped out. “I… I never knew.”

Hawke flipped a stray lock of black hair out of her eyes, trying to feign nonchalance, and her voice once more took on its customary tone of playful insolence. “Of course you didn’t! Because I never told you, and _you..._ ” She poked Aveline right between her breasts, “are cheerfully obtuse about such things!” Marian’s smile, already just a touch wan, dimmed even more and she shrugged again. “Look, let’s not have the next part of this conversation, where you tell me that you’re not interested in me that way and blah blah blah, because… well, because I already know that part, and it would really spoil the mood to hear it right now.”

“All right.” Aveline let out a gentle, little sigh and surreptitiously started scanning the room for her discarded clothes.

But apparently she wasn’t subtle enough; Marian pointed to a small hill apparently built from the clothes they’d carelessly cast aside the night previous. “You were a paragon of efficiency as always, Aveline. Everything’s in a pile over by the door.”

“Hrrrmn. Of course.” Aveline swung her legs out of bed and to the floor, leaving Marian staring wistfully at her naked back. There was just something… alluring about the complete, unflappable confidence with which the tall redhead moved, even when there wasn’t a stitch on her.

“I blame my mother for this, you know.”

“What?” She was just about to stand when Marian drifted in lazily from behind her and draped both arms loosely about her shoulders.

“She treats you like the fourth Hawke child.”

“And the oldest, most responsible one?” In spite of herself, Aveline felt a smile tug at the corner of her mouth.

“Well, it certainly isn’t _me._ ”

“You do all right for yourself.” The redhead waved a hand to encompass their palatial surroundings, then with that very same hand, reached back to affectionately stroke Hawke’s forearm.

“Maybe. But ever since we came to Kirkwall, you’ve been family, and Mother’s always been all about family. I guess somewhere along the way, you bought into it, too. And suddenly it was _you_ who was the big sister, watching out for little Bethany, and Marian, that accursed middle-child. Oh, what an irrepressible terror, that one.”

They shared a chuckle.

“So I get it. I do. I get why you could never look at me… you know… like _that._ ”

“But it still hurts.”

“Almost as bad as Bethany’s cooking. But I’m an adult. Mostly. I’ll get over it.” Marian broke out into a sudden and wicked grin, this one clearly heartfelt and genuine. “Besides, it wouldn’t be fair to get greedy and try and hog you all to myself, especially not when there’s that dashing guardsman on the Lowtown patrol route that you’ve been swooning over...”

Aveline’s blood turned to icewater in her veins. A shiver rolled all the way from her shoulders to the tips of her toes. “W-what?”

“Like we haven’t noticed.”

“I… that is… it isn’t what you...” Suddenly, all the pieces fell into place. “ _Isabela._ ” Aveline bit their mutual friend’s name out like a curse, as she thumped her fist into the mattress. “Somehow she found out about- arrrrrgh, I will _murder_ that poxy tart.”

“That kind of sentiment is very unbecoming of you. As captain of the city guard, you should know better than to make death threats when there are witnesses around.”

“Does… does everyone know about this?”

“No… not _exactly._ ”

That news was met with a sigh of relief. “Good-”

Marian cut her off. “Merrill only has vague suspicions at this point.”

Aveline buried her head in her hands. “I’m ruined.”

“Oh, buck up. It’s not that bad. And now that we know, and you know that we know, and everything’s all out in the open, we can help you with your little… um… courtship problem.”

“Do I even _want_ your help?”

“Of course you do! It’s us!”

Aveline made a half-hearted attempt at a withering glare, but it was clear that she was too out of sorts to really put much heat behind it. “And how do you propose to ‘help’ me, anyway?”

“Well, maybe you could start the way I did. Get him piss-drunk, then bet him that you can fit his entire fist in your mouth. See where it goes from there.”

To her credit, Marian actually managed to keep a straight face under Aveline’s intense scrutinizing for a few seconds before she burst out giggling.

With the tears in her eyes from laughing so hard, she was thoroughly unprepared for an “enraged” Aveline whirling on her and tackling her to the mattress. She tried to wriggle her way clear of the other woman’s grasp, but Aveline was faster, stronger, and heavier, straddling Marian’s waist and easily seizing her flailing wrists with one hand. The other she sent skittering over Hawke’s ribs, tickling her mercilessly for her impudence.

“Accosting a… eeeeep!” Marian let out a squawk of protest like a ruffled hen, as Aveline’s fingers goosed a patch of sensitive skin just underneath her breasts. “… Hightown citizen like this!” She wheezed out the rest. Just barely. “I should… I should report this to the Viscount!”

Her objections earned her a sinister, derisive laugh and another savage burst of tickling, this time across her belly. It was immediately followed by another burst under her arms, and then yet another along the side of her neck. Aveline grinned wickedly. “You’ll have to get out of this bed, first!”


	3. Chapter 3

“That was no fun.”

“Stop pouting. You look ridiculous.”

“You completely took advantage of me. I couldn’t even fight back.” Marian tossed a pillow at Aveline who caught it with contemptuous ease before it could connect with the side of her head.

“How many times have I told you not to pick a fight if you’re not sure of your opponent’s capabilities?”

“How can you _not_ be ticklish?”

“I am. You just need to know where to strike. And you don’t.”

“Not fair.” Like a small child throwing a tantrum, Marian spread her arms and legs out as far as they would go, then flung herself back to the mattress in a display of utter pique, jostling pillows, sheets, and the woman still sharing the bed with her.

“Oh, stop complaining about it. It’s over, you lost.”

“Not _fair,_ ” Hawke reiterated as she took to her feet and retrieved her robe from the chair near the bed. She had just slipped one arm into a sleeve when something unusual caught her eye. She laid the garment back atop the chair and turned once more towards the bed. The red-haired woman still lay atop it, on her back atop the covers, and still delightfully nude, but Marian felt there was something not quite right about what she was seeing. “Aveline, stand up for me.”

The guard-captain rolled smoothly onto her hip and propped her cheek up on a closed fist. She met the request with a smug expression on her face. “Why, so you can ogle my arse some more?”

“No, just… just stand up, please.”

Something about the sudden shift in tone of Hawke’s voice made it seem like a good idea to cooperate, so Aveline did, but not without her brow furrowing in confusion. “What’s going on?” she asked, as Marian circled around the bed to join her and put a suddenly trembling hand on her shoulder.

“You don’t feel any… uh… different, do you?”

“Different… how? Tell me what’s going on.” Her eyes narrowed.

“Come over here to the mirror.”

Together, they stared at their naked reflections for a good minute.

“Marian.”

“Yes, Aveline?”

“Do I… look a bit rounder about the middle to you?”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a mix-up in the post order. This is supposed to be Chapter 4, while the one that got put up earlier is supposed to be Chapter 5.
> 
> Sorry for the inconvenience.

“Anders. Fix this.”

“How, exactly?”

“You’re the healer. Heal… it.”

He was an accomplished mage, a skilled healer, even a former Grey Warden… but he didn’t have the slightest clue where to begin with something like… this. He spread his hands helplessly. “Aveline, it’s not an axe wound, for Andraste’s sake, it’s… it’s a CHILD.”

“Well, actually, that… area… down there… it’s sometimes jokingly referred to as-” Marian chimed in from over by the door to the clinic.

“Hawke...” Aveline began, in that voice she used to threaten recalcitrant drunks or unrepentant brigands.

“Now really isn’t the time,” Anders said with a brief nod of the head.

“Sorry.”

Aveline tugged the hem of her singlet down, covering the growing bulge in her abdomen. In the relatively short time it’d taken them to walk from the Hawke Estate in Hightown to Anders’ clinic in Darktown, she’d… put on a few pounds. At this rate, she’d soon be unable to fit into her tunic, never mind her armor. “Anders, think of something!”

“Maybe _you_ should’ve ‘thought of something’ before the two of you started delving the depths of ensorcelled sex-toys!” he snapped back.

Marian winced and prepared for imminent bloodshed.

Aveline’s eyes narrowed to angry, little slits. “So help me, mage, I will break you.”

“Yes, because that will solve all your problems.”

Marian stepped between them, hands and arms outstretched to physically keep the two of them apart. She smiled feebly. “Uh, Anders? Maybe it’s not such a good idea to antagonize the er… gravid mare...”

“ **Hawke!** ”

Marian flinched back from the sudden eruption of unbridled fury beside her. Reddened cheeks, flared nostrils, and a good deal of aggravated snorting – she knew the signs for what they were. “Oh, bugger… now you’ve gone and done it. You see how incensed she is? Quick, Anders, what’s the standard remedy for calming a pregnant woman’s mood swings?”

His eyes rolled up towards the ceiling as he put all his effort into trying to remember this critical information. “Old elvish midwife I knew once told me peanut butter works wonders.”

“Do you have any?”

“Oh, yes, I always carry some of that around for emergencies involving irate, pregnant guard-captains,” the mage deadpanned.

Hawke stomped her feet. “Anders, you are not helping!” She sighed. “Where’s Ser Pounce-a-Lot?”

A horrified expression crossed his features. “I’m not going to let her eat my cat!”

“No, you buffoon! So she can pet it! Maybe it’ll calm her down!”

“Oh! All right, that… um… maybe that’ll work.” He peered behind a bookcase and began making soft cooing noises. “Who’s a good little kitty? You can come out now… the angry ginger isn’t going to devour you, I promise.” He eventually managed to coax the frightened little tabby out from its hiding place, but when he raised his head, he and Marian were the only ones left in the room. “Where… where did Aveline go?”

Marian turned full about three times before realizing Aveline really was gone. She swore. “Oh, _Flames._ ” She let out a weary sigh. “I’ll go look for her. It’s not like she could have waddled very far...”


	5. Chapter 5

“Why are we at the Gallows?”

“That… thing… you used on me last night… it was magic.”

Marian grit her teeth and did her best to casually search the area for any parties that might be eavesdropping. “Say it louder, please,” she said around a firmly clenched jaw. “Your voice didn’t quite carry to the Viscount’s palace. And anyway, may I remind you that there were _two_ ends?” She waggled two fingers in front of the other woman’s face to emphasize her point. “You gave as good as you got.”

“Apparently not, given the current circumstances.” Aveline snorted derisively.

Marian blushed. “Um. Yes. Well…. Right… that is a bit… curious. But look on the bright side...” She took the redhead’s arm in hers and then reached over with her other hand to give Aveline’s growing belly a little pat. “You’ve got this… glorious maternal glow about you...”

“I really hope you’re not too attached to that arm.”

“Sort of? I’ve had it all my life?”

“Not for much longer, if you don’t let go of me.” Aveline had never been the squeamish type, but she peeled Marian’s hand away from her stomach as if it were some slimy, noxious creature that had oozed its way onto her skin. She flung it away disdainfully.

“And we were getting along so well, too...” Hawke sighed, letting her hands drop back by her sides.

“Look, seeing as how the… implement-”

“Maker’s Breath, are you really going to call it that?”

Aveline continued as if she hadn’t heard. “… the _implement_ was magical, maybe someone in the Circle can help us to figure out exactly what happened here.”

“By ‘someone,’ I assume you’re referring particularly to my sister?”

“Do you trust anyone else to be discreet enough about this?”

“Aveline, I’m not sure I trust _Bethany_ to be discreet enough about this.” She sighed. “But I suppose we’re not exactly spoiled for choice, are we?”

As the two of them approached the massive iron portcullis that separated the Circle Tower from the rest of the Gallows, Marian put on her best smile. The two Templars stationed on either side of the gate stared back at her with cold, hard expressions and her smile faded as quickly as it’d begun. Still, she didn’t let that faze her. “So… wonderful weather we’re having, hmmm? Very… summery, wouldn’t you say?”

Aveline rolled her eyes and shouldered past her. “I’m Guard-Captain Vallen. Open the gates, I have business with the First Enchanter.”

They looked at her skeptically. Aveline was known more by reputation than by face, and while she _looked_ like the captain of Kirkwall’s city guard, she wasn’t in uniform. That made it hard to be certain she was who she claimed to be, especially since no one had ever mentioned anything about a certain… condition…

“Perhaps you didn’t hear me-”

“No, I’m sure they heard you, Aveline. They’re not deaf. I just don’t think they _believe_ you.” Marian cleared her throat. “Gentlemen, are you really sure you want to stand in this woman’s way? She really is who she says she is, and she really does have business with the First Enchanter, but, more imporantly, she’s had this ridiculous craving for pickles and Antivan sardines all day, and you know how difficult those are to get. Do you know what a cranky pregnant woman can do to a man if she doesn’t get her sardines? Are you really willing to risk tempting her wrath any further by refusing her entry?

There was a sudden, low rumble that seemed to shake the very stones beneath all their feet. It was almost like a Mabari’s growl, only throatier, thrumming with seething malice.

The Templar on the left gulped and threw a worried look at his fellow sentry who only nodded mutely in reply.

“… open the gate!” he called through the iron bars.

As the gate opened to let them in, the two women strode briskly into the courtyard at the base of the Circle Tower. They moved at a rapid clip – or, at least as rapid as Aveline was capable of at the moment – while still doing their level best to appear unhurried. They didn’t want to draw too much attention to themselves, and people running places tended to do just that.

“You lied. To those Templars. You lied,” Aveline said, her voice dripping with accusations that she wasn’t at all bothering to keep in check.

“You lied first.”

There was a brief moment of silence and then the redhead nodded. “All right. Point taken.” She frowned, but only for a moment. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever had an Antivan sardine in my life.”

Marian shrugged. “My mother apparently had the most awful cravings for them when she was pregnant with Bethany and Carver. It was the only thing I could think of off the top of my head. I was having a hard time thinking up something suitably disgusting. They’re really rather rank, I’ve been told. Salty, greasy. Just… just utterly vile.”

Aveline blinked slowly and then licked her lips. “Do you think Varric could get me some?”


	6. Chapter 6

“Bethany, I need your help with something.”

When she wasn’t mentoring some of the younger apprentices or practicing her own spells, Bethany spent a good deal of her free time in the Tower’s library reading. There… really wasn’t all that much else to do. Still, she couldn’t complain. Much. She might have been stuck in a cage, but there was something to be said for it at least being a gilded cage.

She poked her nose up from the text she was poring over – something about life in the Anderfels. Marian wondered how she could be so engrossed in such a book – the subject seemed so painfully boring.

Maybe Bethany found it boring, too. It was just better than staring blankly at the wall for hours on end. But that was neither here nor there. The young mage smiled at her older sister as she slipped a bit of ribbon in between the pages to mark her place, then shut the book and folded her hands atop it. “Of course, Sister. Anything. What’s the problem?”

“Well, you see, it’s rather difficult to explain...”

Aveline poked her head in from the hallway and Bethany instantly took to her feet, clearly delighted at the sight of the other woman.

“Aveline! Oh, it’s wonderful seeing you here!” She made a move to wrap her arms around the redhead but paused, marveling at her swollen belly. “And you’re expecting!” Bethany clapped her hands over her mouth, practically doing a little hop, skip and jump in surprise. “How precious! Who’s the father?”

“Well, that’s just it, Beth-” Marian began diplomatically.

“Your sister.”

It took two of the Circle’s best healers a good quarter of an hour to revive Bethany after she’d fainted.

\-----

“Well, that was helpful,” Aveline groused as she and Marian found themselves aimlessly wandering the streets of Hightown.

“You didn’t have to blurt it out like that!”

“We were wasting time!”

“She could have hurt herself! Did you hear that awful *Thud!* her head made when it hit the floor?”

Aveline winced. The noise in question _had_ been rather ghastly, even if there wasn’t any blood and even if Bethany had looked only slightly dazed when they’d left. She sighed. “You’re right, of course. I should have been… more tactful. I’m sorry. But you know tact and I have never really gotten along very well.”

“Yes, we’ve all noticed.”

“And this… this _thing_ is starting to wear on me.”

“You really need to stop referring to it as an… erm… ‘thing.’”

“Well, what else should I call… it?” The redhead growled in frustration. “I’m not ready to be a mother, Hawke!”

Marian grabbed her by the shoulders and squeezed firmly, urging Aveline to keep control of herself. “Look, maybe we’re going about this all wrong. We might want to ask the person we er… borrowed the… you-know-what from?”

“What do you mean?” Aveline shot back, eyes narrowing. “I… assumed it was some trinket you… ahem… brought with you from Lothering.”

“Um… no.”

“Well, then… where _did_ it come from?”

\-----

The interrogation started poorly.

“Merrill, where did you even get this thing?!”

Aveline was aghast. As she had just said a short while ago, she assumed the… object in question was Hawke’s. That it had been hers and that somehow, despite their traveling light and abandoning most of their possessions while fleeing the Darkspawn, she’d managed to hold on to it.

To learn the full extent of the object’s… provenance was proving to be extremely unsettling for her.

Or perhaps it was simply a bout of “Morning Sickness.”

Either way, she’d nearly collapsed into the one chair that Merrill owned, nearly turning it into kindling when her weight slammed down into it. Not only was the elf not overly fond of furniture (being more than comfortable sitting on the floor) she also apparently had no idea when it came to discerning quality goods from trash.

“Hmmm… let me think for a moment. Aha, I remember! Do you remember that strange market we stumbled upon last week?”

If the nausea wasn’t playing such merry hell with her insides, Aveline would have been livid. As it was, she was forced to leave the ranting to Marian.

And Hawke was doing a lovely job of it. “The one in the _sewers?!_ ”

It was unclear if Merrill understood just how incensed her friends were, but if she did, she was showing no signs of it. “Mmmm hmmm. I just happened to find myself there the other day and that sweet little boy who works there sold it to me.”

Marian felt her eyes starting to bulge out of her skull. This situation was becoming more and more precarious by the second. She couldn’t imagine why a charming if somewhat scruffy urchin child was spending his time in the sewers in the employ of a very eccentric and perhaps even somewhat unhinged… whatever he was. But that he seemed to have a working knowledge of magical… sex aids, was even more disconcerting. And then, of course, there was Merrill who seemed to see absolutely nothing incongruous about any of this. Hawke was about to explain all this – try her absolute damnedest to make it clear to Merrill that this was… it was inappropriate, improper, unseemly… just plain _wrong._ But she knew before she said anything that the elf could never comprehend.

Aveline sighed. “I told you we should have just pilfered a cucumber from the pantry, instead.”

“Shush.”


End file.
